Ice
The world is cold. That is how it should be. Cold. I always DREAMED of cold as a child. See, my parents hated the cold. More than anything. And they never let me be cold. I could never leave our 144 degree house in the winter, for fear I would get cold. Ooh, I love that word. Cold. Anyway, I could never take my clothes off, for fear of the cold from my parents. I had to take literally BLISTERING hot showers, with clothes on. I had to wear 3 jackets and long pants at all times. I had to get surgery so I could never sweat, for my parents didn't want me to cool off. I didn't like it. I dreamed of the cold. So, one night, I snuck out. I waited for Father to go to bed. I flew out from under the blanket. I walked, instead of creeping, to the window. I opened it as quietly as possible, and slowly crawled through. I gently made contact with the ground. Excitedly, I took off my jacket. The swish of the cold air, was amazing. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. I loved it. IT WAS GRAND! I wondered why my parents hated the cold. I snuck out into the cold every night for 3 days. But, all good things come to an end, right? On the next Tuesday, I was climbing through my window when Father caught me. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!?!?" He grabbed me and threw me onto the floor. He watched me sleep that night. The next night, my parents put straps onto my bed, to keep me from leaving. They strapped me extremely tight. It was very uncomfortable, and it would stop. I would make sure. I sat there as I was thought to be sleeping by Mom and Father. I was thinking. What to do... how to get what I so desperately desire... the cold... I tingled at the thought of cold. It made me feel... special. I decided the only way to get the cold, was to get rid of Mom and Father. The next morning at precisely 6:48 AM, Mom let me out of my straps. My wrists were red, and the skin was a little bit raw. That made me want to kill them even more than I wanted to initially. My plan was simple. The execution, was genius! I sat on the couch all day. My parents didn't seem to mind. Better off on the warm couch than trying to feel the cool outside air. I just sat there... waiting... waiting for the night... that's when I would do it... That night, I grabbed a knife from our kitchen drawer. It was nice, and long, and perfect. The blade wasn't cold, which reminded me why I was doing this. The cold. I kept saying that to myself. The words made me feel better about this. I snuck into my room as Mom was readying my straps. She turned and called for me. That's when I struck. I dove. I dove as far as I could. I got her legs and knocked her over. I got on top of her. "Marcus, what are you doing!?" I laughed a little bit. As if she didn't know? I held the knife high into the air, and struck her stomach. Blood spewed and flew all over me. Her blood was cool. I loved it. I kept stabbing her, wanting more and more of her sweet, succulent, cool blood! I grabbed her hair, for support. I sawed off her head. I kissed her cheek, and opened her mouth. I ripped the teeth out. For extra support, I ripped the lower jaw open farther. I cut off the tongue, and let the blood pour onto me. It was great. I threw the body through the window. My father came in, looking mortified. "M-Marcus... how... could you?" I didn't respond with words, but actions. I attacked with brute force. I grabbed his hand and stabbed him in his side. He screamed and fell. I pulled the knife out, and stabbed his arm. I stabbed both arms until they reminded me of Swiss Cheese. I stabbed his stomach. I pulled out his small intestine and wrapped it around his neck. He was STILL ALIVE! I pulled the intestine harder and tighter around his neck, until there was a crack. His eyes went into the back of his head, and he died. I scooped his eyes out, so they stayed whole. I hung them in my room. I tossed his body, brushed my hands, and turned the A/C on. I felt very proud of myself. I decided to call my friend Stacy. She came over, and we celebrated. We celebrated with ice. She brought tubs of it. It was great. We sat in the tubs. We sat there as the sub-zero temperatures made contact with our skin. The temperature in the air, combined with the temperature of the ice made the experience even better. We laughed and threw ice at each other. Then, she left. When she was gone, I made a bed. It was a giant container of ice. I buried myself into it, and slept. The next day, I made sure I was never warm. I stayed into the ice until my skin was blue. It was great. I loved it. I took an icy shower. It was just as good. The cold is now my best friend. Why don't you come over, and we can share it together? Remember, the world is cold, and that is how it should be. Category:Mental Illness Category:Dismemberment